


go on and jump (well i dare you)

by kitseybarbours



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, First Time, Genital Piercing, Getting Together, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Pre-Canon, Strap-Ons, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27143174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitseybarbours/pseuds/kitseybarbours
Summary: ‘Oh,Tim,’says Martin, his voice suffused with delight. ‘What’sthis?’‘Surprise,’ says Tim. He grins down at Martin, who is kneeling fully clothed between his legs. ‘What, did you really think I wouldn’t?Me,of all people?’
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 20
Kudos: 160





	go on and jump (well i dare you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rymden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rymden/gifts), [besselfcn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/besselfcn/gifts), [bluebacchus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebacchus/gifts).



> A combined Twitter request for [rymden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rymden/pseuds/rymden), who wanted Martim humiliation; [besselfcn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/besselfcn), who wanted Tim's dick pierced; and [bluebacchus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebacchus/pseuds/bluebacchus), who begged me not to forget about his nips! Title from [I Dare You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WOgQpjARYyc) by the Regrettes.

* * *

‘Oh, _Tim,’_ says Martin, his voice suffused with delight. ‘What’s _this?’_

‘Surprise,’ says Tim. He grins down at Martin, who is kneeling fully clothed between his legs. ‘What, did you really think I wouldn’t? _Me,_ of all people?’

‘I mean I—I guess I—’ Martin breaks off, flustered. ‘But for how _long?’_

‘Ages,’ Tim says, shrugging. ‘Had a bit of a crisis while writing my dissertation and decided this would fix it. It didn’t, but it also didn’t _not,_ if you know what I mean.’

‘Yeah,’ Martin breathes. ‘I think I do. Can I…touch it?’

‘My God, _please_ do.’

Tim closes his eyes, bracing himself, but is still unable to hold in a shudder and a curse when Martin traces delicate, careful fingers over his Prince Albert piercing. ‘Fuck,’ he breathes. ‘Never thought I’d be so grateful to have spent seventy quid ten years ago.’

‘And we haven’t even got _started,’_ says Martin, positively gleeful.

‘Wait,’ says Tim. ‘There’s more.’

In all the rush—stumbling back tipsy from the pub, where over their fourth round of drinks Martin had finally, blushingly confessed that he fancied Tim _(‘Fancy?’_ ‘Yes! Yes, I do, all right? I fancy you!’), and Tim had replied that he’d been waiting for this for months now, and Martin had said with shocking confidence, ‘My flat’s around the corner, why wait any longer’—Tim has somehow managed to keep his shirt on. This seems like more and more of an affront with each minute that passes, particularly now that part one of his surprise has been so well-received.

Holding up a wait-a-minute finger, Tim sets to work on the buttons of his Hawaiian shirt with surprising dexterity. Humming what he hopes is a lounge tune, he strips it off with Barry Manilow-esque flair—and Martin’s dramatic gasp is exactly the reaction he’d hoped for.

‘Nipples _too?’_

‘Nipples too.’

‘Tim,’ Martin says very seriously, or what would have been very seriously about three-and-a-half pints ago, ‘I think you are my dream man.’

‘Do something about it, why don’t you?’ Tim suggests, and is promptly rewarded by Martin jumping to his feet and lunging at him, kissing him with a fervor.

Somehow they make it into Martin’s bedroom, still kissing, and the sweet needy noises Martin is making are exactly what Tim had imagined (and yes, he _had_ imagined), and yet even better. He is rather surprised, then, when as soon as they pass the threshold Martin breaks the kiss and says breathlessly, ‘Get on the bed, I’m going to pull out my dicks.’

Tim gapes at him for a second, and then does as he’s told, careful not to sit on any of the nice throw pillows with his bare, if excellent, arse. Martin is rummaging busily in what appears to be a _trunk_ beneath the bed, and from this angle _his_ arse looks pretty damn excellent, too, and Tim’s eyes seem to get stuck to it for a few minutes before he shakes himself out of it and says, ‘Your _dicks?’_

‘Well, yeah,’ says Martin brightly, straightening up. A leather harness is draped over one arm and he holds a dildo in each hand, one hot pink and stoutly veiny, one slimmer and longer, in a softer shade of lilac. ‘I like to give people choices, y’know?’ He pauses, and looks intently at Tim. ‘Tim,’ he says. ‘You…know I’m trans, right? You did know that?’ A trace of apprehension crosses his face.

‘Yes!’ Tim hurries to assure him. ‘God, yes, of course I knew that, and it’s _fine._ Of course it’s fine. That’s not what I’m—’ He breaks off, aware that he’s about to sound like a complete blithering idiot. ‘Bear with me as I sound like a complete blithering idiot,’ he requests. ‘But I, ah, kind of thought that I’d be the one doing the fucking? What with the, ah, piercing and all?’

‘Oh, _Tim,’_ Martin says again. The slight worry has gone from his face—Tim has never been so relieved—and in its place is a look of devilish mischief. ‘We’ve got all night.’

* * *

‘You’re a slut, aren’t you?’ Martin says in Tim’s ear, his warm breath making him shiver. Tim is on all fours, gripping the sheets for dear life as Martin fucks deep into him and toys mercilessly with the barbells through his nipples. ‘That’s why you got these; that’s why you got your cock pierced. You want everyone to know that you were made to be fucked. You want to show it off. You’re just _begging_ for it, aren’t you? _Aren’t you?’_

‘Yes,’ Tim gasps out, and then moans as Martin gives his right nipple a hard twist. ‘Oh, _fuck,_ Martin, yes.’

‘Yes what?’ Martin demands. He presses down on the small of Tim’s back with just enough force to dip Tim’s hips and make his pierced cockhead brush the mattress.

It’s so sensitive Tim nearly howls. He’s fucked other people since he’s had it, sure—plenty of people, for that matter—but no one has seemed to know what to _do with it_ until _right now._ He manages to choke out, ‘I’m a slut! I’m a filthy, needy— _fuck—_ needy slut, and, and I’m yours, Martin, I’ll be such a good slut for you, I’m all yours, I— _Please!’_

‘Good boy,’ Martin whispers, and kisses the nape of Tim’s neck. ‘You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you? You’d let me fuck you at work, in front of everyone. You’d sit at my feet and warm my cock all day. If I bent you over my desk and spread your sweet hole and told everyone they could do what they liked with you, you’d take it, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ Tim pants. He is so turned-on he can hardly breathe; stars explode across his vision every time his piercing drags across the sheets. The thought of being put on display, open for anyone’s use— _Jon,_ his mind supplies; _Sasha;_ oh, God, _Elias—_ is the filthiest thing he’s ever imagined, and the last thing he’d have expected to come out of Martin’s mouth. He wants it so badly he thinks he might scream.

‘And why’s that?’ Martin asks, maddeningly composed. He thrusts harder, deeper into Tim, torturing his prostate with each jerk of his hips.

‘Because I’m a slut,’ Tim moans. ‘I’m—I’m worse than that—I’m a toy, I’m, I’m a hole. I’m just a fucktoy and I need your cock, Martin, please, _please!’_

‘That’s right,’ Martin soothes him. ‘And you’re going to come on my cock like a good boy, aren’t you? I don’t even have to touch you, that’s how much of a slut you are. There you are. That’s right. Come for me.’

And Tim comes on command, like the obedient slut he knows he is, that Martin has _told_ him he is. He barely has time to remember, almost laughably, that he had thought _he’d_ be the one making Martin scream his name tonight. _Oh, how the tables have turned._

‘I made,’ Tim pants, when he can breathe again, ‘a mess of your sheets.’

‘That’s fine, love,’ Martin says, pulling out of him gently. ‘To be honest, I was planning to change them tomorrow anyway.’ He blushes. ‘I kinda hoped tonight would end up like this.’

‘Did you have an _agenda?!’_ Tim asks, laughing and rolling onto his back, out of the sizable wet spot. ‘Martin K. Blackwood, you are _devious.’_

Martin grins, turning away from him to take off his equipment. ‘I might’ve done. But it turned out okay for you, didn’t it, hm?’

‘Oh yeah, sure did. I literally can’t believe that we went from _I fancy you_ to…that…in, like, a couple of hours.’

Martin gives a cheeky shrug. ‘What can I say? I contain multitudes.’

‘Pfft.’ Tim makes grabbing motions at Martin until he lies down next to him, the dick and harness safely stowed back beneath the bed, and then pulls him close and kisses him full on the mouth _._ ‘Now, multitudes aside, I can’t fail to notice that _someone_ hasn’t come yet,’ Tim murmurs seriously against Martin’s lips. ‘Was that part of the agenda too? Because it’s fine if it is.’

‘Oh, no,’ Martin says sweetly, ‘I’m definitely planning on coming tonight. I just thought I’d give you a minute to recover before I ask you to absolutely pound me into the mattress.’

Tim has to take a moment to double-check that he hasn’t actually died and gone to heaven, or fallen asleep mid-wank and woken up in an exquisite fantasy, or something. ‘Martin,’ he says, ‘it’s funny that I’m your dream man, because I’m beginning to think you’re mine, too.’

Martin spreads his legs, looking up at Tim with an angelic grin. ‘Do something about it, why don’t you?’

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a few more little request fics still to be written, but you're welcome to hit me up with more on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/saintmontague)!


End file.
